


All the Love You Hold and Hide

by Mireille



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Emotional Incompetence, Fuck Or Die, Improbable Refractory Periods, M/M, Multiple Sex Positions, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Not Canon Compliant, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Sex Pollen, Skeevy Sex Magic, slight size kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-26 12:46:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14402436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mireille/pseuds/Mireille
Summary: On a mission, Steve triggers a booby trap that turns out to be a skeevy sex curse, of the "fuck or die" variety.Tony volunteers as tribute.





	1. Chapter 1

Tony rested his forehead against the closed door. “It doesn't have to be me,” he said. “But, uh, it has to be somebody. It's a spell you activated, not a drug or something; the serum can't get rid of it for you.” And eventually, Steve would die. He knew JARVIS had already filled Steve in on the details of what had happened to him, so Tony didn't make himself spell that out. 

“Look, if you don't want it to be me, that's okay. Say the word, and I'll go get one of the others. Hell, say the word, and I'll hire somebody. Whatever you want, Steve, just let me help.” He stepped back, waiting--hoping--for Steve to let him in. 

There was no reply, and Tony was about to confirm with JARVIS that there were still life signs behind the door--it hadn't even been twelve hours, Steve had to still be more or less okay in there; SHIELD's intel said even a normal human would last at least couple of days--when the door opened and a hand clamped down on Tony's forearm. 

“Tony?” Steve's voice was hoarse, and he practically hauled Tony through the door into the dimly-lit bedroom. Tony didn't even have the chance to grab the electrolyte and protein drinks that he'd brought with him; he'd have to get them later, when Steve was doing better. 

The room reeked like a fourteen-year-old boy's bedroom. Not a lot of doubt what had been going on in here since Steve had abruptly left the mission debriefing. “JARVIS, turn up the ventilation system, please,” Tony said. “I”m choking on testosterone. And turn the lights up to seventy-five percent.” Not too bright, in case it bothered Steve's eyes for some reason, but at least Tony would be able to see. 

“Tony,” Steve said again, pulling on his arm to turn Tony to face him. “Tony, please.” 

With the lights up, Tony could get a good look at Steve. He was unsurprisingly naked, a slight sheen of sweat glistening on his skin. Steve's hand was hot on his arm, too.. “And lower the ambient temperature two degrees,” Tony added to JARVIS, before turning his attention back to Steve. 

The hand that wasn't gripping Tony's arm--hard enough to be uncomfortable, but not hard enough to seriously harm him--was wrapped around Steve's cock, moving so fast it was practically a blur, although Steve barely seemed aware of what he was doing. 

Well, obviously. He was standing there jerking off in front of Tony; he was clearly not thinking about what was happening. 

Steve's dick was like the rest of him: big--both long and thick--and perfectly shaped, from what Tony could see. His mouth watered a little, and then he clenched his teeth, disgusted with himself. This wasn't about his teenage crush on Captain America, or even his inappropriate (but at least _private_ ) fantasies about his teammate Steve. 

This was about helping his friend. About keeping Steve from _dying_ from this fucked-up sex curse that he had managed to trigger.

“Please,” Steve repeated, and Tony looked up at him, met Steve's eyes for the first time. They were glassy, pupils blown wide, and if Tony didn't know better he'd think Steve was incredibly fucking high. There was almost nothing in his expression--no alertness, no intelligence, basically blank except for desperation. 

“Do you want me to help you, Steve? You know what I'm going to have to do.” 

Steve didn't say anything, but he let go of Tony's arm and went over to the bed. At some point today, Steve had pulled all the blankets off and left them in a pile in the corner; there was only the fitted sheet on the bed now. Well, that was one solution to being overheated.

Steve got on the bed, on his hands and knees, flawless ass pushed into the air. “ _Tony_ ,” he whined, as he shifted his weight so that he could go back to fucking his own fist. 

God, this was obscene. Tony wanted to be thoroughly disgusted by it--not by Steve, but by what had been done to him. What he'd been reduced to by that repulsive spell. For the most part, Tony _was_ disgusted, but there was no denying that his body was reacting to the sight.

When he'd thought to grab lube from his apartment, he'd shoved it in his pocket for convenience, so at least that hadn't got left outside the bedroom when Steve had dragged him inside; he retrieved it now, then stripped off, accompanied by Steve's constant litany of “Tony” and “please,” and “now,” and desperate, wordless noises.

Maybe it was good that he wasn't a decent enough person to not want Steve when he was like this, Tony thought as he joined Steve on the bed. If he had been, he wouldn't have been able to do this for Steve. 

When Steve realized Tony was behind him on the bed, he let go of his cock and reaches back, using one broad hand to spread himself open. Tony wasn't able to stifle his moan; under other circumstances, that would have been the hottest thing Tony had ever seen in his life, and he'd seen a lot.

It was still the hottest thing he'd ever seen, but now he sort of hated himself for thinking so. 

He stroked himself a few times, but it didn't take much effort to get himself fully hard; his conscience might have been having trouble with fucking Steve-under-a-sex-spell, but his libido thought it was an answer to its prayers. 

It didn't matter, though; he was here for a reason that had nothing to do with what he wanted or how he felt about it. He had no idea how much prep Steve really needed; “So, Cap, have you had much ass-fucking experience?” wasn't a conversation they'd ever got around to, obviously. Maybe Steve had been taking the biggest dicks in Manhattan every chance he got since SHIELD thawed him out, for all Tony knew, but he doubted it. 

He had a pretty good guess as to how much prep Steve was willing to wait for, though--this latest whimpered, “Tony, please,” sounded pained and barely coherent--so a ton of lube on Tony's dick is going to have to do. 

Steve gave another wordless wail of frustration, and Tony put a hand on Steve's hip, rubbing the feverish, sweat-dampened skin. “Not long now,” he promised. 

Steve quietened immediately, though his breathing was still loud and ragged. Tony was trying to be careful, to make this violation as not-unpleasant as he could for Steve while still getting the necessary results. He wished he could be clinical about it, could treat it as a medical procedure, but he was only human. 

Steve had other ideas, anyway; the minute the head of Tony's cock was inside him, Steve began pushing backward, frantically trying to impale himself on it. Tony gripped Steve's hips, trying to hold him still, but Steve was stronger than him, especially now that he wasn't able to hold himself back at all, and Tony gave in, snapping his hips to thrust into Steve as deeply as he could go. 

He was still holding on to Steve's hips, though; his thumbs stroked across Steve's skin, trying to give some comfort, if Steve was aware enough to accept it.

“More,” Steve demanded, his voice practically a growl, and it would have been so easy to respond in kind, to let his voice go low and rough and just tell Steve everything Tony wanted to give him, every filthy thing he'd ever imagined doing to Steve, or Steve doing to him. To let Steve know how sweet it felt when Steve clenched tight and hot around him, or every time Tony thrust into him again. 

Instead, he made himself keep his voice soft. “It's gonna be okay,” he promised. “You're going to be fine, this'll all be over soon, I've got your back...” He didn't really know how much of it Steve comprehended, but Tony had to try. He had to make sure Steve knew that this wouldn't have been happening if there had been any other way. 

Because it wouldn't--he was very clear that it wouldn't. If time or cold showers or anything else would have fixed this problem, Tony wouldn't be here. He may have been an asshole, but he wasn't the kind of asshole who fucked people who didn't want him, people who didn't even really know that “no” was a word at this point. 

That didn't stop it from feeling good, though, and he sped up the pace of his thrusts, fucking into Steve deep and hard. Steve was mostly not even trying to make words any more, just whimpering and moaning as he jerked himself to the rhythm of Tony's cock inside him. 

Tony could feel his balls tightening, his muscles tensing, and he was grateful and so, so disappointed that this was going to be over so soon. But this was the whole point, this was apparently what that depraved spell Steve got caught by demanded, so Tony decided to let “grateful” win out. 

Then Steve screamed Tony's name, the sound only half-muffled by the pillow Steve's face was buried in, and no one, _no one_ , not even Steve, had to know that was what sent him over the edge, coming so hard that he felt like it was turning him inside out. 

Coincidence, that's all it was, if anyone were to ask--which thank god, no one ever would. 

Tony's cock was softening, and he was about to pull out when Steve clenched tight around him again. This time, Steve's shout was wordless, his hips jerking frantically as he came. Tony could only hold on until Steve collapsed on the bed. 

Then he could move away from Steve--although Steve still whined in protest--and grab his discarded underwear from the floor, using it to clean them both up a little. It was a weird feeling not to have a condom to get rid of, but apparently that would have defeated the purpose: Tony had to come inside Steve. That was why Natasha was automatically out of consideration as a candidate. 

He supposed it didn't really matter. It wasn't like Tony could knock Steve up, anyway, and even if something had slipped past Tony's regular blood tests (even if all the risks Tony had been taking lately hadn't been of an entirely different kind), he was pretty sure Steve's serum would take care of it. 

Steve rolled over, out of the wet spot; he was still hard, but when his eyes met Tony's, they were focused, a little clearer. “Thanks,” he whispered, voice still hoarse. 

Something occurred to Tony then. The room may have smelled like it belonged to a teenager who'd just discovered masturbation, but there was only one spot on the sheet; no crumpled tissues, stained t-shirt, crusty sock. “Jesus,” he said without thinking. “Is that the first time you could come?” 

Steve nodded, a flush starting at his hairline and traveling downward, and Tony grimaced. No wonder the guy had been desperate. Was still desperate, really; his cock was flushed and stiff, and with Steve's hand no longer covering it, Tony could see that there was actual chafing that Steve's healing factor hadn't been able to take care of--the skin was being irritated faster than it could heal. “Jesus,” he repeated under his breath, realizing that this wasn't going to be as quick and simple as he'd been hoping. He'd planned for that when he brought supplies, but he'd still been telling himself that it'd be over after the first time. 

It was definitely not over. Steve might have been a little more with-it, but when he realized Tony was looking at his cock, he shifted his hips forward a little. “Please,” he said. “I need it. I need you.” 

Nope, Tony was not going to be playing that back in his head when he jerked off for the foreseeable future, because _that would be wrong_. 

“Sorry,” he said. “Normal uncursed human here.” He waved a hand toward his own groin; if he could be hard again already, he would be, with Steve looking at him like that, but it just wasn't happening. 

Steve whined impatiently. He reached for his cock again, but Tony shook his head. “You're going to hurt yourself.” That reminded him that he was supposed to be getting fluids and protein into Steve--apparently victims of this curse tended to neglect their other needs, and that plus cardiac stress caused their deaths--so he stood up.

“Don't go,” Steve pleaded. 

“Hey, it's okay, Capsicle, I'm just going in the other room. Got some stuff we're going to need.” Steve looked like he was going to argue, but Tony went back out into Steve's living room, got his bags of supplies and some bottles of water from Steve's kitchen, and then, on impulse, checks the cupboards and found a bowl. It would be easier than running into the bathroom every time he wanted some water to clean them up with, and it looks like he was going to be cleaning them up a lot. 

By the time Tony got back into the bedroom, Steve's eyes had glazed back over as the need built up in him, and while he was wincing in discomfort, he was stroking himself rapidly again. 

Tony set down his supplies and put a hand on Steve's forearm. “Hey,” he said when it stilled. “I'm going to take care of you, remember? Let's let that skin heal a bit.” 

Steve whimpered, but he let his hand fall to his side. “I need it, Tony,” he said again, and at least it was a whole sentence. 

“Yeah, I know. But you need to let me help you.” He reached in the bags, got out a bottle of sports drink and one of the protein drinks--SHIELD's special formula for super-soldiers, Norse gods, and anybody else with an unnaturally revved-up metabolism. There were some normal ones in the other bag if he was in here long enough to get hungry. If he didn't make himself sick at the thought of how much he _isn't_ hating this. 

Tony opened the sports drink and handed it over. “Drink that,” he said. “You need to hydrate.” 

Steve didn't take the bottle at first; instead, he ran his fingers lightly along the inside of Tony's wrist. “Come back here,” he said. 

Tony shook his head. “In a minute,” he said, and then decided it wasn't like he could make this any worse, really. “If you drink that, and then the protein drink, I'll take care of you. Some way that'll give your healing factor a chance to deal with that little chafing problem.” 

“You could fuck me,” Steve suggested hopefully. “Fuck” had never sounded as obscene as it did coming from that perfect mouth; Tony thought it was likely to be the death of him.

“As soon as I can,” he promised. “Until then--” He knew what he wanted to do to Steve, and it wasn't entirely selfish, after all; if he could give Steve any relief at all until Tony's body was ready for another round, he really should. “Until I can give you my cock again, I'll fuck you with my tongue,” he suggested, and he could feel Steve's answering groan sparking along his nerves like electricity.

He offered Steve the sports drink again, and this time Steve took it, drinking it down obediently, quickly. Tony went into the bathroom, and after quickly cleaning himself up, filled the bowl with warm water and brought it back with a couple of towels and a washcloth. Steve picked up the protein drink without further urging, grumbling at the chalky taste but drinking steadily. Tony put the bowl on the nightstand and decided he should probably drink something, too; he got half a bottle of the sports drink down before Steve reached out toward him. 

Steve's voice was slow and thick, like he was drunk, but he was still coherent, at least. “I can't... can't wait longer. Please.” 

Tony set the drink down, took Steve's empty bottles from him and set them aside. “That's good,” he said. “We can't have you making yourself sick while we get you over this.” He dipped a washcloth into the bowl of water and turned his attention to Steve. 

He washed Steve's stomach, then, very gently, his cock and balls; Steve whimpered and pushed into Tony's hand, but Tony just did his best to ignore it. “Turn over,” he said, biting back the endearment that he almost added automatically. It was hard to be clinical, though, when he was washing away his own come from Steve's ass and thighs.

“You promised,” Steve reminded him as soon as Tony tossed the balled-up washcloth back into the bowl of water. 

“Yeah, I did,” he said, “and I'm going to keep my word.” He spread Steve's cheeks apart, lowering his head to lick a stripe between them. Steve shuddered and moaned, and Tony smiled. “I haven't even started yet,” he teased, then goes to work on the ring of muscle. 

Steve was already opened up from Tony's cock, but the muscle loosened further under the attention, and when Tony pushed his tongue inside, he met with no resistance. 

He was still trying to focus on the situation at hand--he was helping Steve get through the wait until Tony could do something that would actually improve his condition, and that was all--but it was impossible when Steve was so beautifully responsive, thrashing against thin air while Tony tongue-fucked him. It was good; better than any of the times Tony had imagined this--and he hoped Steve never had the slightest idea just how often Tony _had_ imagined it. 

He could taste himself inside Steve, and that should have made him feel guiltier, should have reminded him of why he was here, but it didn't. He couldn't feel guilty, not right now, not with Steve sobbing and writhing underneath him as Tony slowly and deliberately took him apart. 

He wondered how long it had been since anyone had done this to Steve, if anyone ever had. He didn't let himself wonder whether Steve would let Tony do this to him again, after all this was over, because Tony knew he wouldn't the answer. 

He had to keep his hands on Steve's hips, exerting just enough pull to keep Steve from grinding against the mattress; if they had to do this again after the next round, he was going to have Steve on his back. There was no point in giving Steve's dick a break from his hand, if he was just going to give himself friction burn from the sheets. Tony probably should have put Steve on his back this time, but he was trying to avoid looking Steve in the eye while Tony was doing this to him, afraid of what Steve might seen in his face. 

After a while, Tony's jaw was aching, and he reluctantly pulled away; his cock was stirring, want pooling heavily in his belly at every moan and gasp, but he wasn't ready for Steve yet. Instead, he scrabbled for the bottle of lube and poured some on his hand. 

Two fingers slid inside Steve easily; he thrust them in deep, crooking them when he found Steve's prostate, pressing against it. 

The sound Steve made was more a howl than anything else. He pushed back against Tony's fingers, whining greedily when Tony withdrew them; when Tony added a third finger, Steve still whimpered for more. 

Tony was half-hard now, and he took himself in hand, stroking himself to full erection. “Shh,” he murmured, still massaging Steve's prostate. “Just a minute, and I'll give you what you need.” 

Steve only groaned, fucking himself on Tony's fingers, and Tony had to struggle to keep his voice calm. “That's right, sweetheart,” he soothed, and then flinched at the endearment. At least Steve probably didn't pick up on it. “I'm ready for you now.” 

He pulled his fingers out, closing his eyes briefly when Steve whined and arched his back. Maybe he should have waited to see if Clint or Thor volunteered. Maybe they should have hired a professional willing to sign a very thorough NDA. At least then the person who got Steve through this would be able to never think of this again once it was all over, and Tony wasn't sure he could do that. 

Correction: he was sure he couldn't. 

Steve was slick and open, ready for him, and Tony groaned softly as he slid into that welcoming heat. 

“Yes,” Steve gasped, clenching tight around Tony's cock, and all Tony could think for a minute is an echoing _yes_. 

Steve was a little less frantic this time; when Tony started to thrust, slow and steady, he just rocked back against Tony's cock, giving breathless little gasps that Tony shouldn't have found hot. 

In the unlikely event there was actually a hell, though, Tony had already been destined for it for a long time now. It wasn't like he could be damned twice. Besides, when he tried to remind himself that Steve didn't want this, didn't want him--that all this was only a compulsion forced on him by a twisted mind--Tony could feel his erection wilting, and he had to go through with this. 

So Tony let himself pretend that this was real, that Steve's desperation was born out of actual desire. It was better than abandoning Steve to his fate

“You're doing so well,” he told Steve, running his hands over every inch of skin he could reach. His breath hitched as he thrust in again, so deeply that Steve's ass was pressed flush against him. 

Steve's weight shifted, and as soon as Tony realized why, he took hold of Steve's forearm. He couldn't pull Steve away if he didn't want to be pulled, but fortunately, Steve was lucid enough to give in when Tony said, “Don't hurt yourself.” When Steve planted his hand on the bed again, Tony covered it with his own, though he stopped himself from twining his fingers with Steve's. 

“That's right,” he said, rewarding Steve with another deep thrust. “It'll be better if you come on my cock, anyway.” 

“Oh, God, Tony,” Steve gasped, shuddering and clenching around him. Tony wasn't sure if it was a good thing that Steve was coherent enough to know who was here with him. It might have been easier on Steve if he could have imagined someone else. On the other hand, at least this way, Steve would know who was to blame when it was all over. 

If the building had been a little less soundproof, half of Manhattan would have known who was to blame when it was all over, because Steve couldn't be quiet. When he stilled under Tony and then came, he shouted Tony's name loudly enough that Tony's ears were ringing with it. 

“There you go,” Tony murmured, his mouth against Steve's skin. “I told you that'd be better.” 

Steve was still fucking himself on Tony's cock, and it was so good that Tony bit his tongue to keep himself quiet. He'd always been vocal in bed, and now he could feel the words building up in his throat: _Fuck yeah, Steve, just like that, knew you'd feel so good, you sound so hot when you say my name like that--_ all the things he'd have been saying if he and Steve had really been together.

When he came, he wasn't able to stop himself from saying, “God, Steve, you're so good...” but at least that wasn't too revealing. Steve didn't react, anyway, but Tony pulled away from Steve as soon as he could, putting as much space between them as a king-sized bed would allow. 

Steve rolled over and looked at Tony, and it was _Steve_ looking out at him--still a little glassy-eyed, pupils still unnaturally wide, but definitely fully alert now; that made everything worth it. “Everything okay?” he asked, and Tony almost laughed. 

“Pulled a muscle,” he said, and it wasn't even really a lie, because there was a definite ache in the back of his thighs; clearly he should have stretched. “I'll be fine.” Then, because his hamstrings were not the important thing here, he turned the question back on Steve. “How are you feeling?” 

“Sticky,” Steve said, and this time, Tony really did laugh--it was short and sharp, almost painful, but it was genuine. “And I don't think this is over.” He shook his head. “Scratch that. I'm sure it's not over. I don't usually have to hold myself back from jumping you.” 

Tony couldn't hide his wince, and Steve flushed. “It's okay,” Steve said. “I _can_ hold back, now. I'm not going to try to make you go again so soon.” 

Tony didn't correct Steve's assumption. He didn't want to hear Steve explain that if he hadn't been cursed, he wouldn't have wanted Tony in his bed. Tony understood that; he was _fine_ with that; it was probably even good for his ego for him to want someone who didn't want him back every now and then. He just didn't want to talk about it, especially not when he was going to have to fuck Steve again once he'd recovered from this last round. 

“No,” Tony said. “What you're going to do now is get some fluids into you, and then if you think you can stand it, get in the shower. You reek.” He leaned over the edge of the bed, snagging more bottles from the bag at the foot, and then tossed them to Steve. “Fluids, electrolytes, protein.” 

“What do I get if I drink them this time?” Steve's smile was wrong, almost a leer, and Tony's stomach clenched at the reminder that Steve still wasn't himself. 

“A gold star,” he said, finishing the bottle he'd opened for himself earlier. He definitely needed it; he couldn't taste the salt in it at all. He should probably get a second bottle for Steve, too; the guy had had a long day even before activating the curse. 

Steve was already gulping the sports drink, but he looked up and shook his head at Tony's reply. “I'd rather have your mouth on me.” He leaned back a little, spreading his thighs a little to make sure Tony got a good look at his cock. 

Oh, thank fuck, Tony thought, this seemed to be working. Steve was still more than half-hard, but his erection no longer looked painfully desperate. This wasn't all for nothing. 

But it wasn't over yet, and it was going to be quite a while before Tony was ready for round three, so he nodded. “Drink those, get a shower, and then we'll see.”

 _Stop acting like this is going to be a hardship_ , he told himself. _It's just a blowjob._

It wasn't strictly necessary, it wasn't going to help Steve work the curse out of his system, but it was something Steve asked him for, and he owed Steve that much. 

By the time Steve headed into the shower, Tony had managed to stuff most of the guilt into the back of his mind. He set aside his empty bottle, decided he could probably use one of the normal-human-formula protein drinks (he couldn't actually remember the last time he ate; he's sure there was something, maybe sandwiches, at the post-mission debriefing, but Steve was already acting weird by then and Tony had only given the food a tiny fraction of his attention), and followed it with one of the caffeine pills he'd gotten from medical. They'd refused to give him any stronger stimulants, but caffeine would do fine. He just needed enough energy to function.

Way too much of the bed now qualified as “the wet spot,” so he found the top sheet in the pile on the floor and spread it over the bed. He didn't envy the laundry service, but then again, he supposed that was what he paid them for. 

He cleaned himself up; the water in the bowl had gone cold, but he could change it out later. He really doubted that a little cold water was going to extend his refractory period in any significant way. It was already going to be long enough, after fucking Steve twice in a relatively short time. He wasn't even sure the other pills that the SHIELD doctor had given him would help; he'd be able to get it up, but no, that wasn't enough, because apparently magic is really fucked-up. Tony liked to think he had a pretty good--and perverted--imagination, but how someone came up with the idea that this was a fantastic spell to invent, he couldn't even begin to fathom. 

He'd just sat down on the edge of the bed to wait when the bathroom door opened and Steve came back in. “Do I get my gold star?” he said, leaning back against the door frame and grinning at Tony. It was a real grin, the grin that meant Steve was giving him shit. It was frequently annoying, but he was glad to see it now. He was on his feet and halfway across the floor to Steve before it dawned on him that it was more than a little creepy to seem too eager for this. 

“Yeah, probably,” he said, in an offhand tone. “JARVIS, order some gold star stickers for the Captain, here.” 

JARVIS's confirmation that the order had been placed came just a few seconds later, and Tony smirked at Steve. “There you go. An entire box of them, just for you. We can stick them on the shield.” 

“What about my other reward?” 

The words were barely out of Steve's mouth before Tony was crossing the space between them. “I don't get on my knees for just anybody, you know,” he said, laughing in spite of himself, “but for a genuine goddamn American hero...” He wanted to kiss Steve, to drag his mouth down over all that beautiful skin as he slid to the floor, but he wasn't sure that was a good idea, so he just went down to his knees, looking up at Steve. 

It had been a long time since he'd done this--years, honestly--but in this condition, Steve wasn't likely to bitch about any imperfection in his technique. Steve smelled like musk and soap; there were still drops of water from his shower clinging to the hair at the base of his cock. Tony was more interested in the bead of liquid forming at the tip; he flicked his tongue out to lap at it, and Steve shuddered. 

Steve's hands settled on his shoulders, gripping tightly. “Don't tease,” he said, his voice dropping into that low growl again, and fuck, Steve could have anything he wanted if he'd just ask for it like that. 

Tony opened his mouth and did his level best to swallow Steve's cock down to the root. He didn't succeed--he's out of practice, and if Steve wasn't the biggest guy he'd tried to go down on, he was right up there--but he did manage not to choke, so he'd give himself nine out of ten for effort. 

Steve clutched at his shoulders and groaned, and Tony felt happily smug as he pulled back a little, just enough so that he wasn't gagging as he started to suck. The way Steve whimpered when Tony's tongue pressed against an especially sensitive spot didn't lessen that smugness one bit. 

Steve couldn't keep his hips still, or maybe he wasn't even trying; he thrust in deep again, the head of his cock bumping the back of Tony's throat. Tony jerked his head back, spluttering, and if this had been anyone else--if this had been Steve under different circumstances--that would have been , Tony would have just got him off with his hands and tried this again another time, where he could have pinned Steve's hips down on the the bed until he grasped the basics of self-restraint. 

But it was Steve, and it wasn't even reasonable to expect Steve to exercise self-control at the moment, so instead, Tony wrapped one hand around the base of Steve's cock and put the other one on Steve's hip, pushing him back against the wall. When he took Steve in his mouth again, it helped; Steve's hips were still stuttering, trying to seek out more of the wet heat of Tony's mouth, but he couldn't push in as far. Steve's cock was a heavy weight on Tony's tongue, and the wet sound of Steve sliding past Tony's lips--stretched tight around Steve's girth--made something hot and needy stir deep inside Tony. When one of Steve's hands moved up to tug at Tony's hair, he heard _himself_ whine. 

“Tony, God, _Tony_ , I'm gonna-- What do you--” Steve couldn't quite seem to make a whole sentence, but that wasn't a problem; Tony got the gist of it. He pulled back a bit, trying not to choke on the sudden hot, salty flood over his tongue. 

Tony kept sucking, working Steve's cock with his tongue until he'd coaxed out every last drop, but finally he let Steve slip out of his mouth. “Better than a gold star?” he asked, swiping the back of his hand across his chin, scrubbing at a damp patch in his beard. 

“You didn't have to do that,” Steve said, with a loopy smile that Tony refused to let the spell take all the credit for. “I mean, you could have stopped before I finished.” 

“I didn't want to,” Tony assured him. What he'd wanted was exactly what he'd got: the chance to put that big dumb grin on Steve's face “Trust me, if I hadn't wanted you to come in my mouth, you wouldn't have.” 

He thought Steve turned faintly pink at that, but it might have been the light. Anyway, by the time Steve offered him a hand up and Tony got to his feet, the blush--if that was what it even had been--had already faded. 

“Come on,” Tony said, nodding toward the bed. “I'm going to be keeping you waiting a while longer. We might as well be comfortable.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, with a shrug. “Because this whole thing is definitely _comfortable_.” 

That got another actual smile out of Tony. “I wasn't going to say it.” But he led Steve over to the bed and lay down stretching out his legs. 

“You know,” he said as Steve settled next to him, “when we realized somebody needed to volunteer for this, I don't think any of us really believed it was going to take more than once, twice at the most. So, if you want--it would probably get things over faster if somebody else took over from me. Natasha can't, obviously, and Bruce thinks it'd be much too risky, but there's Clint or Thor...” Tony wasn't actually sure how either of them swung, to be honest, but it was still a reasonable suggestion. If not them, he was sure there was at least one SHIELD agent who'd be happy to step in. 

“It's not fair to ask this of you, I know,” he began, and Tony had to squash the treacherous feeling of lightness somewhere in his chest. “This is embarrassing enough as it is without involving anyone else, though. I know they're aware of the situation, but that's not quite the same.” Steve sighed. “I wouldn't blame you for wanting to let someone else step in, but I'd rather wait.” 

When Tony didn't answer right away, Steve shrugged. “Anyway, it's not so bad now. At least I can actually think clearly.” He smiled wryly. “I can mostly think about sex, but it's still coherent thought. It was bad when you first got here.” 

“Hey, I'm good.” He made himself grin at Steve. “This isn't exactly a hardship. Exhausting, maybe, but it's definitely not a terrible sacrifice.” 

That got him another smile. “Glad to hear it,” Steve said. “I know I'm asking a lot of you, more than strictly necessary. I did hear what JARVIS told me. I couldn't really process it at the time, but it makes sense now--as much as anything involving the concept of an evil sex curse can make sense--and most of what you're doing... you don't have to.” 

“Does it help?” 

“You wouldn't believe how much it helps,”Steve said immediately. “It might not be making this--” he waved a hand in the general direction of his cock, still not soft despite everything they'd done in the past couple of hours-- “go away, but it's making it a lot easier to tolerate. Touching myself just seems to make things worse, but when it's you... ” 

“I can keep helping,” Tony offered, because he was just that kind of generous guy, and because this seemed a lot less terrible when Steve was able to have a reasonable conversation. He could almost let himself believe this was something they had both decided they _wanted_ to do. 

Steve closed his eyes, and there was a catch in his voice when he said, “Please. I didn't want to ask, but... _please_.” 

The chafed skin had already healed--Tony had had a chance to observe that for himself close up--so Tony decided against getting creative. He decided against wasting the actual lube, too, since he didn't want to have to go find another bottle before this was all over, and grabbed the bottle of lotion from Steve's nightstand--and apparently Steve really hadn't been able to put a whole thought together earlier, since it didn't seem to have occurred to him to use the lotion before

Tony squirted some of it on his hand and reached for Steve's cock. He intended to make this quick and dirty, just getting Steve off again to make it easier for Steve to wait until Tony could fuck him again, but Steve was making such fucking gorgeous sounds already, just because Tony was touching him, that Tony changed his mind. He could put some effort into it. 

He wanted to figure out what Steve liked, but right now, at least, Steve liked _everything_ : he liked it when Tony gripped him hard and jerked him roughly; he liked it when Tony trailed his finger lightly along Steve's shaft, dragging the pad of his thumb slowly over the head; he threw back his head and wailed when Tony turned his attention to Steve's balls, cupping and fondling them. 

“There you go,” Tony murmured, going back to slow, steady strokes. “Can you come again?” 

“Oh, God, please,” Steve gasped, pushing up into Tony's hand. “Please, please, please...”

“Shh.” Tony ran his free hand lightly over Steve's thigh, feeling the fine trembling of the muscles. “Anything you want, Steve, all you had to do was ask.” He sped up the movement of the hand wrapped around Steve's cock. “Come on, baby, just let yourself go, come for me.” It was nonsense, the kind of thing he might have said to anybody he was fucking, but he _wanted_ it, wants so damn much for this to have been for him, because of him, even though he knew better. 

But Steve said his name again and arched up into Tony's fist, coming in thick white spurts over Tony's fingers and his own belly--and fuck, watching Steve come was still stupidly hot--and between that and the dazed, beautiful grin that Steve gave him, Tony was able to pretend, at least for a minute

Afterwards, Steve closed his eyes, still grinning goofily, and seemed to doze off for a little while. Tony tried lying beside him and resting, but there was too much caffeine in his system for him to lie still, even with his tolerance for it, and so he got up. Steve wouldn't mind if Tony used the shower, he figured. At least, no more than Steve was going to mind anything that had happened today; borrowing some shampoo is going to pale in comparison to all the rest. 

Even after he was clean, Tony stayed in the shower, resting his forehead against the tile wall of the shower stall and letting the hot water wash over him. He was trying not to think. He could think about what he'd done later, once this was over, once he didn't have to go back out there and face Steve. Not now.

Right now, only three things seemed important: one, without this, Steve would die; two, Steve didn't seem to prefer death to the alternative; and three, Steve wanted him to stay, rather than bringing someone else into the situation. Those were the only aspects of this he was going to consider until it was all over. The only person whose ethics he was going to question until then was that piece-of-shit wizard, or sorcerer, or whatever they called themselves, who did this to Steve in the first place. 

But it was so hard not to think at all; it wasn't something Tony had ever been good at. And it was almost impossible not to think about Steve. Steve could be pretty damn compelling even when he wasn't under a sex curse, after all. 

Mentally going through the next set of improvements he planned to make to the armor helped; it usually did when he was in need of distraction. He stood under the hot water until he was wrinkled and waterlogged, and if he had to push aside images of Steve even when considering repulsor designs, at least it wasn't very often. 

Eventually, though, he had to get out of the shower. He borrowed some of Steve's mouthwash, too--his kingdom for a toothbrush, but a quick look through the medicine cabinet didn't turn up a spare--but finally he came out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist more out of habit than modesty. 

Steve was awake, staring up at the ceiling, when Tony came back into the bedroom. At least he was a lot calmer now, Tony thought, more like himself. “Thought you were drowning yourself in there,” he said, turning to prop himself up on one elbow so that he could look at Tony. 

“No such luck, sorry,” Tony said, doing his best to sound cheerful. “I just got distracted by some ideas I want to try out when I get back to my workshop.” It was very nearly not a lie, after all, and the important thing was to not dump any of his guilt on Steve. Steve was going to have enough of his own crap to deal with when this was all over. 

When he got near the bed, Steve reached over and tugged on the towel, sending it sliding to the floor. “Should we see if we've waited long enough?” he said, looking up at Tony through his eyelashes. It was just the angle that made him look like he was batting his eyes at Tony; Tony didn't think Steve would flirt with anyone like that intentionally, let alone Tony. But it made Tony smile in spite of himself, all the same. 

“We can try,” he said, and if the throb of arousal that he felt in response to the sudden flare of heat in Steve's expression was any indication, they were likely to succeed before too long. 

He let Steve tug him down onto the bed, but when Steve leaned in to kiss him, he turned his head away. Tony loved kissing, would happily kiss Steve for hours under other circumstances, but not like this. It would just make things more complicated, in the aftermath, if they pretended this was something it wasn't, and things were going to be complicated enough.

“Fine, then,” Steve muttered, but he didn't push, just moved further down Tony's body. If, among the licks and nibbles on Tony's skin, there was the occasional kiss, well, those were easy enough to pretend he hadn't noticed. 

But Steve was showing way too much of a tendency toward sentiment, so Tony caught hold of Steve's hand, wetting it with his tongue before pulling it down to his cock. “C'mon, Rogers,” he said. “Let's get the party started.” 

“I thought that was what I was doing,” Steve grumbled. “But fine, have it your way, _Stark_.” His fingers closed around Tony's cock, stroking it . His frown lightened when Tony groaned and squirmed under Steve's touch. 

“Yeah, that's good,” Tony said, arching his back when Steve tightened his grip. “Get me hard for you.” And it ought to have been more difficult than it was turning out to be, after the day they'd been having, but clearly Steve was just that damn hot, or maybe Tony really ought to have been laid more often than he'd made time for lately. Maybe the sex curse was slightly contagious. Tony had no idea. All he knew was that Steve's hand felt incredible, and it didn't take that long until he was responding to it. 

“I should be getting you ready for me,” he said, because as appealing as a slow, lazy handjob from Steve sounded to him, that wasn't what they were here for. Besides, today was almost certainly going to be his one chance to feel Steve come apart around his tongue or his fingers, and he wanted to take it.

Steve's response was to twist his wrist in exactly the right way to make Tony whine, his hips bucking upward. “I thought we were getting _you_ ready for _me_ ,” he said, and America's hero should not have been able to make a sentence without even any four-letter words in it sound that filthy. It wasn't fair to Tony's brain, which was now dedicating most of its considerable resources to a very tempting image of Steve fucking him. 

“I wish,” he said, because he had a gift for talking before he thought, but Steve's face brightened with interest. 

“After this?” Steve suggested. “I mean, unless this is the end of it.”

It was very wrong of Tony to hope this wasn't the end of it, but how the hell was anyone supposed to resist that kind of temptation? Besides, it wasn't like Tony could do anything to affect the outcome. If Steve was free of the curse after this round, then it would all be over, and if he wasn't, there was no reason not to let Steve have what he wanted. 

“Anything you want,” he promised. Steve's jaw tightened, and Tony wasn't sure why that was the wrong thing to say. 

But apparently, it wasn't all that wrong, because Steve nodded. “I'm holding you to that.” 

“Not going to be a problem, trust me. But right now, do you have a preference on how I do this?” Steve's brow furrowed, and Tony clarified. “Would you rather have my fingers or my tongue?” 

Steve's response was to turn beet red. It was a definite sign of improvement, since it wasn't that long ago when, in Tony's opinion, Steve wouldn't have been able to get embarrassed. “Or I could just improvise,” he said. “Let me know if I do something you don't like.” He got the lube; better to have it handy than have to scrabble for it when he needed it. “Can you pull your knees up toward your chest for me?” Steve complied, and Tony just studied him for a moment. He didn't want to forget this, even if he probably should. 

“Perfect,” he said at last, settling between Steve's legs. From that deep blush, he was guessing Steve wanted Tony's tongue again--Tony was sure they'd invented rimming in the forties, but he was also willing to bet that even if Steve had done it back then, he hadn't ever talked about it--and Tony was happy to give Steve what he wanted. He'd always been good with his mouth, after all, and Steve did seem to appreciate it. 

He was right that Steve really didn't need a lot of preparation; he was still open from before, the muscles already stretched, but that didn't mean Tony was going to do this halfway. 

Steve was just as vocal as he was the first time Tony did this to him--still not very many coherent words, but the moans and whimpers and gasps of “Oh, God, Tony, do that again,” were going straight to Tony's cock. 

When Tony finally stopped teasing and licked into Steve, the sound it drew out of Steve was positively filthy. Tony responded by pulling back, tracing the circle of muscle with the tip of his tongue until Steve squirmed and whimpered, and then pushing his tongue into him again. 

Steve was so fucking gorgeous like this--laid open for him, writhing and gasping and sobbing--that Tony was glad he'd already come twice today; he wasn't sure he'd have been able to hold out much longer otherwise. Especially not when Steve pleaded, “Please, Tony, I need you in me--I need your cock, now.” 

Not that Tony was giving in to that just yet. He wasn't sure if it would make any difference, but he wanted to make this good for Steve. At least then it wouldn't be an entirely unpleasant memory. He squeezed lube onto two fingers and slid them into Steve easily.

“Tony!” Steve protested, but then subsided as Tony crooked his fingers inside him, trying to find the right place to make Steve see sparks. The wordless cry he got from Steve a moment later let him know he'd been successful. 

“You're almost ready,” Tony reassured him. “You've opened up for me so nicely, and now I just want to get you slick and wet for my cock. Can you be patient for just a tiny bit longer?” 

“No,” Steve said petulantly, and Tony couldn't help but laugh. 

“Try,” he said, but he withdraws his fingers anyway and started slicking up his cock instead. “Okay, Captain Demanding, here it is, then.” He didn't even try to go slowly this time; Steve was relaxed enough and there was enough lube that he wasn't worried about it, and he met with almost no resistance as he slid into the welcoming heat. 

Steve had gone nearly silent, so Tony looked up to check on him. He couldn't trust Steve, right now, to be able to object if something was hurting him. 

He looked fine; he was just... watching Tony. Except that sounded so ordinary, and the way Steve was looking at him wasn't ordinary at all. For a second, Tony felt all too exposed, like Steve could see every thought he'd been ashamed of today, but then they broke eye contact and everything went back to normal again, or whatever was passing for normal tonight. 

Steve hooked his legs around Tony's waist, pulling him in close, and Tony let himself smile. “Hint taken,” he said, and started to fuck into Steve, deep and slow, trying to pull more of those gorgeous sounds out of him. 

“Tony,” Steve breathed. “Come on, _harder_ , I know you can fuck me harder than that.” He laughed when Tony groaned loudly. “You like it when I say 'fuck,' don't you? I noticed that earlier. I'll say it all you want if you'll just stop being so careful and _fuck me_. I'm pretty hard to break, you might have noticed that.” 

And Tony might have known Steve would be pushy in bed. On the other hand, in bed, Tony didn't mind it at all. He thrust in more roughly, moving faster, urged on by Steve's needy whines and whimpers. “You wanted it hard, didn't you? Come for me, then. I know you need to. I can see how hard you are.” He swiped a finger over Steve's stomach, just under Steve's straining cock; it came away wet with pre-come. He resisted the urge to put his finger in Steve's mouth, to make Steve taste himself. 

He didn't even try to resist the urge to taste it himself, and Steve moaned, his eyes tracking Tony's motions. Tony grinned at him. “I want you to come from me fucking you again,” he said, “but if you need me to...” 

“Just keep going,” Steve said, raising his hips to meet Tony's thrusts.

That was what Tony wanted to do anyway, and so far, repetition hadn't made him any less interested in fucking Steve. This time was better than before, in fact, because Steve was more involved in the process--hell, Steve was _giving him shit_ , and it probably shouldn't have surprised Tony that he liked that as much as he did. He wanted to fuck Steve, not some blank-eyed sexbot in Steve's body, and Steve had been giving him shit since they day they met. 

In fact, Steve right now was so much like Steve in mission briefings or the training room that when he shuddered and came, without Tony touching his cock, Tony had a moment of triumph. “I won,” he declared. 

“Not how it feels from over here,” Steve said. Then he clenched tight around Tony's cock. “Don't _stop_.” 

He wasn't stopping; he wasn't sure why he'd want to stop. Not with Steve hot around him, not when he was getting so close, and every sound Steve made pulled him closer to the edge. “I still win,” he managed to gasp before he slipped over, and as the world went white for a moment, he could hear Steve laughing. 

When Tony's brain came back online a few seconds later, Steve was still grinning at him. “What do you win?” he asked, and it took a few heartbeats for Tony to remember what he was talking about. 

“I'll take a couple of your gold stars when they come in,” he said. “They'll look better on my armor than your shield, anyway.” 

Steve looked a little disappointed, and Tony rolled his eyes. “I can't believe you're pouting over stickers.” 

“I'm not.” 

“Of course you're not.” Well, obviously he wasn't, but regardless of the reason for it, the disappointed look is completely gone from Steve's eyes, if it was ever even there. Tony may have imagined it. “Fine.” He pulled out of Steve and rolled over, sprawling on the mattress to catch his breath.

They were silent for a few minutes, their breathing sounding freakishly loud in the quiet room, and then Steve said, “Tony? I think it's over.” 

And Tony was not disappointed by that, not at all. That had been the whole point, and was _glad_. “How do you know?” 

“Well, this is the first time since I touched the seal on that door that I've gone five minutes without feeling like I needed sex, for one thing. I'm not even hard any more. And there's been this feeling--kind of like electricity, but under my skin. I guess it was the magic? It's been there since this started, but it's gone.” He sat up, rolled his shoulders to work out the kinks, and gave Tony a huge grin. “It's gone, Tony. We did it.” 

Tony sat up too; it was just a coincidence that he turned so that his back was to Steve. “That's great. Do you feel okay?” 

“Tired,” Steve said. “Hungry. A little sore--nothing that won't heal in a couple of hours at the most. But yes, I'm all right.” 

“Bruce is probably going to want to check your vital signs and all that,” Tony said, “but that can wait until you've had some sleep.” He got to his feet, looking around on the floor for his clothes.

He could almost feel Steve's frown through the back of his skull. “You're at least as tired as I am,” Steve said. “You don't have to go yet. Come back and rest for a while.” 

Tony was already pulling up his jeans. “I should really go,” he said. “The others are all going to want to know that you're going to be okay.” Never mind that nothing would be easier than to get JARVIS to pass on the information; chances were good that JARVIS already had, anyway. What he wanted was to get out of here before it dawned on Steve exactly what Tony had done to him. 

Tony struggled into his shirt. He could see both shoes, but only one sock, so he decided to just shove his bare feet into the shoes. He was already leaving his underwear behind, after all. Then he made himself turn back to face Steve. “Besides, like I said, I had some ideas when I was in the shower. I want to get back to the workshop.” 

“If you say so.” Steve didn't sound convinced. “But seriously--thank you for this, Tony.” 

Tony shrugged. “You've run into the line of fire for me before. This wasn't even dangerous. But you're welcome.” 

He didn't wait to hear what Steve said in reply; he just knew that if he didn't get out of Steve's apartment right now, he was going to be sick.


	2. Chapter 2

That had been Wednesday night. 

Tony had gone back up to his own floor, taken another absurdly long shower, and--despite the caffeine pill--fallen over on his bed and slept for a solid eight hours. At least he'd remembered to tell JARVIS to let everyone know that Steve was going to be fine, first. He'd thought about going to find them in person, but he hadn't realized how late it was when he left Steve's apartment, and besides, he really didn't feel like talking to anyone.

He'd run into Clint on the elevator, but Clint had gotten as far as “Is Steve going to be--” before getting a good look at Tony. “Never mind, I'll ask JARVIS,” he said. “And I should take the stairs. Good cardio.” That had been the extent of of his human contact. 

When he'd woken up, he'd only paused long enough to get sufficient coffee into him to reach normal levels of functioning before he headed for his workshop. 

Now it was Tuesday afternoon, and apart for occasional breaks when he got hungry enough that it interfered with being able to concentrate, he'd been in there the whole time. At least he had some solid, though minor, upgrades to his armor to show for it, and some interesting new arrows for Clint to play with. 

He'd had JARVIS keep him updated on how Steve was doing, despite the fact that after the second or third time he'd asked, the AI had suggested that Tony try asking Steve himself. On Bruce's advice after he'd checked Steve over on Thursday morning, Steve had apparently spent Thursday and Friday either asleep or eating; on the weekend, he'd added “destroying punching bags” to his schedule. Tony had winced at that news, envisioning Steve picturing his face as he drove his fist in to the bag, but quickly recognized that he was overreacting.

If Steve was imagining punching anyone in particular, there was a sorcerer in SHIELD custody right now who'd be a much more likely candidate. Although from the video JARVIS had provided, Thor had done a pretty good job of punching the guy on Steve's behalf. Then Clint had shot him in the knee when he tried to escape, and Natasha had cheerfully dragged him off to hand him over to the waiting agents. 

And then, on Monday, it seemed Steve was back to normal. He'd had a speaking engagement at an elementary school in Queens--there was local TV coverage, of course, and Tony had watched it, just to make sure Steve was fine. 

Steve looked fine. Of course, Steve had looked fine--wiped out, but fine--when Tony had left him on Wednesday night, so Tony didn't know what he'd been expecting. And he was glad, because Steve being okay had been the entire point of everything Tony had done to him. 

Steve was okay, and Tony was obviously okay--nothing had happened to _him_ , after all--and it wasn't that Tony was essentially living in his workshop to keep from having to run into Steve or to talk to anyone about what had happened; that was just a very convenient coincidence.

Which made it completely _un_ like running into Steve in the common kitchen when he'd realized that it was two a.m., he hadn't eaten in seventeen hours (that information helpfully provided by JARVIS, who'd tried reminding him a few times before, but he'd been preoccupied with improving the energy efficiency of some of the modifications he'd just made, and who could think of food at a time like that?), and he should probably take a break and go get a sandwich. 

Running into Steve was not even slightly convenient. And, he strongly suspected, not a coincidence.

Neither was the way that Steve loomed in the doorway, arms folded across his chest, blocking Tony's exit--not that Tony would have tried to avoid him. “I haven't seen you around lately.” 

Tony decided to focus on putting mustard on bread and not looking up at Steve. “I've been working,” he said. 

“That's what JARVIS told me when I asked.” 

So, _definitely_ not a coincidence, and the problem with making a truly sophisticated AI was that sometimes he conspired with Steve behind your back for your own good. Well, Tony was damn good at “fake it 'till you make it,” so he ought to be able to convince Steve that everything was good. “How about you? I mean, you're okay, yeah? No lasting effects?” He finished assembling his sandwich. Putting things back in the refrigerator gave him another excuse not to look at Steve. 

“No, I'm good. Except for one thing.” 

“Don't worry, if I got you pregnant, I'll be generous with child support.” Maybe being a smart-ass would annoy Steve enough that they could avoid this conversation altogether.

He had to turn back toward Steve to collect his sandwich, so he didn't miss the way Steve rolled his eyes at that. “What is your problem, Stark?” Steve snapped. “Look, I get that you're not thrilled that you drew the short straw and had to be the one to save my life, but since I didn't feel like dying, I can't be sorry about it.” 

Now that was actually funny. If they'd drawn straws for it, Tony would probably feel a lot less guilty. “I volunteered,” he said. “I didn't even wait to see if anyone else was going to. The SHIELD analyst explained how that spell worked--apparently, they've had agents trigger something similar before--and as soon as I knew what you needed someone to do, I volunteered.” He hadn't even thought about it before speaking up. Maybe if he had, he wouldn't have said anything. 

Except that he wouldn't have let Steve die. That would have been infinitely worse than what he actually had done. 

“Then I really don't see the problem here. And I still have no idea why you practically ran out of my place that night. I'd already told you the spell was broken; you didn't even have to worry about me not keeping my hands off you anymore.” 

“Oh, for fuck's sake, Rogers.” Tony sighed. “I don't want to talk about this--at all, to be honest. But definitely not here. It might be the middle of the night, but with my luck, we'd attract an audience.” 

“All right,” Steve conceded. “We'll go to your place. At least then you're less likely to run out on me.” 

“Great,” Tony said, with the most fake-sounding enthusiasm he could muster, just so that Steve couldn't claim to have missed the sarcasm. “Awesome. Because the one thing we don't want to do is get on with our lives and pretend the whole thing never happened.” 

“That's right,” Steve agreed, glaring at him. “We don't.” 

Well, fuck. It had sounded like a decent plan to him. 

Tony followed Steve out of the kitchen. At least he remembered to grab his sandwich. He was doubtful that he was going to feel like eating any time soon, no matter how long it had been since his last meal, but maybe he could pretend to be choking on a crust and get out of this conversation. 

Except Steve would probably just do the Heimlich maneuver on him, because that was just how his luck was running. 

At least Steve didn't try to push things; he didn't say anything on the way up to Tony's floor, and when Tony stepped away to put distance between them in the elevator, he didn't protest. 

He waited until they were sitting on opposite ends of Tony's couch before he broke the silence. “Are you going to tell me what the problem is now?” 

Tony took a deep breath; maybe it would be better to just get this over with. “There's not a problem,” he said. “Not on my side.” Okay, that was a lie, but it was a necessary one. “I was just trying to give you some space. I figured you might want that, after what I did.” 

Steve's brow furrowed. “What did you do?” When Tony rolled his eyes in impatience, the frown only deepened. “Oh, you mean saving my life. Yeah, that's definitely the kind of thing that makes me want to stay away from you.” 

“How do you have the whole world fooled into thinking you're not a sarcastic asshole?” Tony shook his head. “Saving your life isn't the problem. It's what I had to do to you to save it.” 

Steve shrugged. “I'm still not seeing the problem. You're not the one who did something wrong here. That'd be the guy who decided that spell would be better than a burglar alarm. All you did was keep it from killing me.” 

“And you barely knew who I was when I got there,” Tony said. “For all I knew, you thought I was a fate worse than death.” 

“I knew who you were.” Steve slid over a little and put his hand on Tony's arm; Tony forced himself not to flinch away. “And I know that even before I let you in, you offered to go get someone else. I wasn't good at complicated thoughts at the time, but my hearing was fine.” 

That actually helped a little. Not that he felt like telling Steve that. Instead, he decided to stall by taking a bite of his sandwich. 

But Steve, damn him, couldn't just let them sit in silence while Tony ate. He did let his hand drop back to his side, which was, unsurprisingly, both a relief and a disappointment. “And, all right,” Steve went on. “I do understand what you mean. You're thinking about this like--” He shrugged. “Like I was drunk, or drugged, and you took advantage of me. But you keep missing the key point here, Stark--Tony. _I was going to die_. And as messed-up as it is, there was only one way to stop that.” 

Steve ran a hand through his hair. “If I... oh, I don't know. If my leg was caught in a bear trap--”

“A bear trap?” Tony couldn't resist saying. “Where are you going to find a bear trap in Manhattan? Besides, you'd probably just get up and keep running, dragging the trap behind you.” 

“Just work with me here,” Steve said. “This is a hypothetical situation, and I'll be the first to admit that I didn't work out all the details. Anyway, if the only way you could save my life was to amputate my leg, do you really think you'd be the one I'd blame for the situation? Or the guy who set the bear trap in the first place?” 

Tony just sat there for a moment, so stunned that he had to subtly check to make sure his mouth wasn't hanging open. “That's your idea of an analogy? Leg amputation?” 

“Just answer the question, Tony. Even if I knew you'd volunteered to be the one to get me out of the bear trap, do you think I'd blame you? Or worry that you'd sneak up on me and try to amputate my other leg?” 

“Ugh. I hate you, Rogers. No, you wouldn't, but that's because in this hypothetical weird-shit situation you've come up with, I didn't _want to amputate your leg even without the bear trap_ , which is also what makes this is the worst metaphor I've ever heard.”

Steve grimaced. “You're right. When you put it that way, it really is a terrible example. But you get my point.” 

“I do, but I don't think you're getting mine.” 

“What, that you liked having sex with me?”

“No leg-amputation metaphors?” 

“They were going to get too weird,” Steve said, like they hadn't started out that way. “And you're avoiding the question. What, exactly, was your point? That you liked what we did? Or that you wanted to do it? Not the 'magical sex curse' part, obviously, but even at the time, I could figure out that you wanted me. Actually wanted me, I mean, not just wanted to do whatever it took to keep that spell from killing me.” 

Well, there it was. Right out in the open, where Tony really hadn't ever wanted it to be. “I like sex,” Tony said. “I like ridiculously attractive people. You're a ridiculously attractive person, and not a complete asshole, so of course I wanted to--” 

“Cut the crap, Tony,” Steve said. 

“Okay, you _are_ a complete asshole, but you're hot enough that I'm prepared to overlook it.” He grinned at Steve, but Steve didn't smile back. Steve was giving him that damned disappointed look again, the one Tony remembered from the other night. 

“Fine.” Steve moved back to the far end of the couch again. “If that's how you want to do this, there's really not much else I can say. It's not like this conversation is easy for me, either, you know.” 

Tony started counting in his head. In his experience, whenever someone said “there's nothing else I can say” in a conversation like this one, a maximum of thirty seconds would go by before they found something else they could say. It was frequently some variation of, “Go fuck yourself, Tony.”

Steve made it to a count of seventeen before he spoke up again. “I was so glad it was you at the door,” he said. “I mean, JARVIS made sure I understood what was happening; I'd have opened the door no matter who was out there. I don't particularly want to die at all, but that is definitely not the way I want to go. But when I realized it was you, I was _grateful_. You know why?” 

_Because Clint probably doesn't swallow?_ he thought about saying, but before he could open his mouth, he realized that he was too tired to keep being a smart-ass. He wanted this whole thing to be over, and the only way to make that happen was to let Steve have his say. “I have no idea,” he said. He didn't, not really. He had hopes, and he had delusions--he was pretty sure that where Steve was concerned, they were the same thing--but he didn't have the least clue what was going on in Steve's head. He almost never did.

“I find that hard to believe,” Steve said, “but never mind. I was glad because at least that way, I wasn't going to be doing anything that I wouldn't have wanted to do without the curse.” He leaned back, waiting for Tony to say something. 

For once in his life, Tony had no idea what to say. He was having trouble believing Steve, because that matched up too perfectly with what he wanted, and he'd been awake for enough hours in a row that it was reasonable to be suspicious. He didn't _think_ he was sleep-deprived enough to start hallucinating--JARVIS usually got way more insistent about him taking a break before he reached that point--but it had been a long week. 

Once Steve started talking, though, he apparently didn't need any feedback to keep going. “And then--after you did everything you could to make things better for me, after everything you said--you still couldn't get away fast enough when it was over.” 

Fuck it, Tony thought. He was too tired to argue about this, and he'd been too careless to claim Steve was reading too much into things. Everything he'd said? He knew what he'd said, he'd been kicking himself for some of the things he'd said, and he'd been hoping that Steve hadn't heard him. He wasn't going to ask Steve which embarrassing endearment he'd heard Tony use; he was just going to assume the answer was “all of them.” 

“I didn't want to be in the room when you realized what had just happened,” Tony said. “I'd had a hard day, and getting punched in the head by Captain America wasn't how I wanted to end it.” He shrugged. “How was I supposed to know you weren't going to regret the whole thing?” 

“I thought you were supposed to be a genius,” Steve said. “I asked you to stay, instead of getting someone else to help, even though it meant I'd be under the spell longer. I asked you to stay there with me when it was all over. And you couldn't figure out that I wanted you there? That I wanted you, period?” He shook his head. “For a smart guy, you can be incredibly stupid.” 

Tony had to let that sink in for a few seconds. “Even my mistakes are impressive,” he said at last. 

“If putting it that way makes you feel better about yourself, then, sure, I guess so.” 

Seriously, Steve could be such a pain in the ass sometimes. “So. If we're done insulting my intelligence--which is a bold move, I have to admit--where does that leave us?” 

“I guess that's up to you,” Steve said. “I think I've made it pretty clear where I'd like to go from here, but if that's not what you want...” 

“Like I said before, I enjoy having sex with ridiculously attractive people.” He smiled at Steve. “Specifically, you. That last time, when you were more--well, more like yourself? That was good. We can definitely try that again.” With precise comedic timing, his stomach growled, and Tony chuckled. “Okay, first I think I should probably eat something,” he said, picking up his plate again. “That's the only reason I left my workshop in the first place. _Then_ we can try that again.” 

Steve grinned at him. “I'm not sure I want to. Eventually, yeah, we can try that, specifically, again. But there was something we didn't get around to, and I'd kind of like to try.” 

“Sure,” Tony said, as casually as he could manage. “That could work.” He did not, mercifully, blurt out, “Oh, fuck yes, please,” no matter how disappointed he'd been at the time. “I mean, it's only fair for you to get a turn on top.”

“That's what I thought,” Steve said. “But...um. I might not be that great at it.” 

“...Okay? I mean, are you just trying to keep my expectations low, or have you had specific complaints, or what? Because I realize that wasn't all--well, you--but based on my observations, you're probably going to do just fine.” And if he didn't, well, there were plenty of other things they could do. 

Steve addressed his next remarks somewhere past Tony's right shoulder. “I just meant that I don't have a lot of experience.”

Tony shrugged. “I doubt that'll be a problem.” 

“By 'not a lot,'” Steve said, “I mean basically none.” Now Tony looked up to see that Steve's face was turning red. “None at that, I mean. I've done other things.” 

Not that surprising, really. Spending several decades encased in ice didn't leave a guy a lot of opportunities for an active and varied sex life. “Not a big deal,” he said. “If you're not okay with going straight to fucking me, we can always stick to something you know you like. I'm flexible.” 

Every time he'd pictured what having sex with Steve would be like--outside of the curse, of course--there had been a lot less talking involved. At least, the kind of talking that involved sitting on the couch, fully dressed, not touching each other. He was perfectly willing to talk. It was the serious emotional conversation that he wanted to avoid. Especially now that he'd finished his sandwich and didn't even have that to use as a deflection any more. 

At least this time they were talking about sex. “So, tell me,” Tony went on, “what do you like?” 

He hadn't thought it was possible, but Steve turned an even deeper shade of red. “You should know,” Steve mumbled. “You were there for...almost all of the sex I've ever had. And that's with using a pretty generous interpretation of 'sex.'” 

The first thing Tony thought--and he wasn't proud of that, but he was who he was--was, _Damn, there go all those daydreams about Captain America fucking his way through twenty-first century Manhattan._

On the other hand, the first thing he said was, “Shit. I'm sorry.” Which was an improvement, granted, but possibly not the most tactful approach, so he tried to clarify. “If I'd known, I could have--” 

Steve raised an eyebrow. “--felt guilty about taking my virginity under those circumstances?” 

Okay, the man had a point. “Yeah, maybe. But I could have tried to make it--Jesus, Steve, that first time, I barely even got you ready. If you didn't heal so damned fast, I could have seriously hurt you.” 

“It didn't matter,” Steve said. “At least at the time. I wouldn't have let you be careful. And you were, later.” He shrugged. “Those were hardly normal circumstances.” 

“No,” he agreed, then decided that if he wanted to _not_ beat himself up over this all over again, he needed to change the subject, at least slightly. “So, you said I was there for 'almost all' of the sex you'd had...” 

Steve groaned, looking up at the ceiling and shaking his head. “I'm going to regret telling you that, aren't I?” 

“Oh, no,” Tony said. “I'm going to make sure you don't. I promise.” He shifted closer on the couch, so that he could put his hand on Steve's thigh. “But I was thinking we could--not pretend the other night didn't happen, exactly, but agree that none of it counts.” 

That at least got Steve to look at him again. “Okay,” he said, dubiously. 

“And that means the two of us have never had sex before, and that means that I might want some helpful hints on how to seduce you.” 

“Don't tell me you need hints from me on how to seduce somebody,” Steve scoffed. “I know better. Clint forwards us items about you from gossip columns.” 

He laughed. “Remind me to kill Clint later. And okay, maybe not, but work with me here, Rogers. I've never seduced _you_ before.” It was time somebody took the initiative, and it looked like it was going to have to be him. He reached up and caught two fistfuls of Steve's shirt, tugging him down for a kiss. 

For a moment, he wasn't sure Steve was going to respond, but then he yielded, kissing Tony back and parting his lips for Tony's tongue. Tony licked his way into Steve's mouth, devouring all the tiny whimpers and gasps that Steve gave him. God, Steve was just as gorgeously responsive as he'd been under the curse; that was _him_ , not the magic, and it was practically criminal that Tony hadn't found that out before now. 

Steve's hand came up to settle, big and warm, on the back of Tony's neck, and when Tony momentarily broke the kiss, Steve chased after him, drawing him back in so that Steve could explore the contours of Tony's mouth. “You should have kissed me before,” Steve said when he finally pulled back. 

“I should have done a lot of things to you before,” Tony said, “but I figured you were too much of a Boy Scout to want it.” 

“No,” Steve said. “I mean, yes, but I mean the other night. You told me we could do anything I wanted, but you wouldn't kiss me.” 

“The last thing I wanted was to make you have to deal with me wanting you. You, not just your admittedly desirable ass.” 

Steve rested his forehead on Tony's, chuckling softly. “You probably should have thought about that before calling me 'sweetheart,' you know.” 

“Oh, for God's sake, shut up,” Tony grumbled. “I say stupid things when I'm having sex.”

“I didn't mind, though. I just got confused when you didn't want to kiss me.” 

“Well, I want to now. Especially if it'll get you to stop talking.” Tony kissed him again, slow and deep and open-mouthed, letting go of his handfuls of Steve's t-shirt so that he could slide his hands under the hem and up Steve's sides. 

Once they were both breathless, Tony smiled against Steve's mouth. “So, kissing, you've done, yeah?” 

“Of course I have,” Steve huffed. “I wasn't hopeless, you know.” 

“Not hopeless,” Tony soothed. “Just innocent and virginal.” Steve's skin was warm under his hands, and Tony spread his palms flat against Steve's stomach, soaking in the heat of him. 

“I hate you,” Steve grumbled. “I'm not that, either. It's just--you've seen the files, you know what I was like before the serum. Most people didn't look twice at me, or they only liked girls, or something; and half the time, I felt too sick to really be interested, anyway. It's hard to have much of a sex life when you can barely breathe.” 

Tony nodded. “Okay, that makes sense, but what about after the serum?” 

“Not much opportunity,” he said. “I mean, there were--” He blushed again, and one day, Tony was going to stop finding that ludicrously charming. He usually liked experience, and definitely not embarrassment, but clearly Steve had decided to be an exception. “I didn't want to run the risk of getting a girl pregnant. What if I died? Turns out that was a pretty reasonable fear, as it happens, and I'm glad there wasn't any chance that I could have left a baby behind.” He sighed. “So I never went very far with a woman, and with guys...” 

Steve paused to kiss Tony again, and then shrugged. “They were soldiers, usually, and it was always in some corner somewhere, or behind a tree--anywhere we could get out of sight--and mostly just hands.” He took a deep breath. “And then here--I mean, now--it's damn near impossible to find someone who wants Steve Rogers, and not just Captain America.” 

Tony tried to hide his wince, but he must not have done a good job of it, because Steve shook his head. “Not you. Even when you joke around about seducing America's hero, you know me, not just the shield.” 

“Remind me never to tell you about an extremely _formative_ poster I used to have on my bedroom wall when I was about fourteen,” Tony said, grinning. “Or, I don't know, remind me to tell you about it, and I'll show you what I used to do when I looked at it.” He might have resented the hell out of Captain America at times, but he'd still appreciated the visuals.

Steve sniggered. “I'm sure I can guess.” 

“Don't guess. A demonstration would be so much more fun. Not now, though.” He kissed Steve again, and this time, he also moved so that he was straddling Steve's thighs. “Now,” he said, sliding his hands over Steve's broad chest, “we're going to let you relive your misspent youth.” 

He leaned into the kiss, sliding further up Steve's thighs until their bodies were pressed close together. Steve was starting to get hard already, groaning as Tony ground against him, and Tony grinned at him. “I take it you like that idea?” 

“I like any idea that ends with you touching me,” he said. “Or with me touching you.”

Tony kissed him again, harder and more hungrily, as he palmed Steve through his sweatpants. Sucking gently at Steve's bottom lip made Steve moan and push into Tony's hand. 

“God, I love your mouth,” Steve gasped in between kisses. 

“You're going to love my hands, too, I swear,” Tony said, pulling at the elastic at Steve's waist and shoving one hand inside. “Why, Captain Rogers,” he drawled in mock surprise when he met nothing but skin underneath, “I believe you came prepared for this.” 

“I should probably say yes,” Steve said, “but the truth is that I was asleep when JARVIS woke me up to tell me that you'd finally left your workshop.”

“I'd tell you off for spoiling the mood,” Tony said, “but it really doesn't.” He turned his head so that he could kiss along Steve's jaw, up to his ear, and tugged down Steve's pants to free his cock. He had three choices: to do this dry, at least until Steve produced enough pre-come to provide some slight lubrication; to get up and go to his bedroom for some lube; or the option he went with: pressing his hand against Steve's mouth. “Get it wet for me?” he said. 

Steve licked at the palm of Tony's hand until Tony judged that it was wet enough to serve the purpose. There hadn't been a great deal of finesse in it, but the glide of Steve's tongue on his skin was electrifying all the same, leaving Tony's body humming with arousal. 

When he took his hand away, he curled it around the base of Steve's cock, beginning to stroke him. “We can stick to this for the night if you want,” he murmured into Steve's ear, punctuating it with flicks of his tongue against Steve's earlobe. “But what I'd really like is to get you so turned on that you drag me off to the bedroom and fuck me.”

Steve's response was to groan and push into the circle of Tony's fist. “I'm going to take that as approval,” Tony whispered, tugging at the earlobe with his teeth to make Steve whimper. The sounds Steve was making were going straight to Tony's cock, and he squirmed in Steve's lap. 

Steve took the hint, cupping Tony through his jeans and squeezing him gently. “I definitely approve,” he said, “and it looks like you do too.” 

“What I approve of,” Tony said, “is all those noises you make. Fuck, Steve. You look like you've never had an impure thought in your life, but when I touch you, you make such beautiful, _filthy_ sounds.” He sucked at the tender skin of Steve's neck; he wouldn't be able to leave a mark that would last longer than a minute or two, no matter how hard he tried, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. They were a little too old to go around with visible hickeys, and there wasn't an inch of Steve's skin that Tony didn't want to get his mouth on before too much longer. 

That earned him a whimper, practically a sob, and Steve arched into his touch. 

“That's right,” Tony whispered. “I can't wait to hear what you sound like when you're fucking me.” An idea occurred to him, and he grinned. “I'm going to lay you down on my bed and ride you,” he said, the skin of Steve's throat warm against his lips with every word. “It only seems fair, since it's your first time, that you get to lie back and enjoy yourself.”

Steve gave him that loopy grin again. Tony liked that grin enough that he was making plans to put it on Steve's face as often as possible. “You just can't stand the thought of not being in charge.” 

Tony laughed. “Oh, you think you're ready to take the wheel? Be my guest, then.” 

To his complete surprise, Steve rose to his feet. Since Tony's legs had been on either side of Steve, he was able to wrap them around Steve's waist and put his arms around Steve's neck; Steve's hands at his hips held him steady as Steve stalked toward the bedroom. 

This was kind of embarrassing. He was a grown man. He was _Iron Man_ , for fuck's sake. “What are you, a caveman?” he demanded. “Because this is one step removed from clubbing me over the head and dragging me off to your cave.” 

“I could do that, sure,” Steve said, “but I figured knocking you unconscious would spoil all the fun.” 

“You could put me down,” Tony suggested, “and stop showing off.” 

“But it annoys you,” Steve pointed out, grinning, “and I enjoy that. Besides, I'll put you down in just a second.” 

“Jackass,” Tony muttered as they reached the bedroom and Steve, true to his word, put Tony down--dropping him on the bed. “Just for that, I ought to send you home and go to sleep.” 

“That'd just be punishing yourself.” Steve sat down on the other side of the bed. “Maybe you should just push me down on the bed and keep your damn promises. The 'kill them with kindness' principle.” 

“You _would_ suggest that,” Tony said, “but you also make a good point about punishing myself. I wasn't a jackass. There's no reason why I should suffer.” He stood up to get out of his jeans more easily. “Come on, old man, this will work better if you get your clothes off.” 

Steve complied, and Tony patted his ass approvingly. “That's much better,” he said. “Now, do we go with my excellent idea for how this should go tonight, or do you have a different, wrong, opinion?” 

“You know,” Steve said, flopping back down onto the bed, “I might have had other ideas, but at this point, I think you deserve to have to do all the work.” 

“That's right,” Tony said. “We wouldn't want to put too much strain on the elderly. You just lie back and watch the show.” He leaned down to cup Steve's cheek in his hand while he kissed him, slowly and sweetly, just to make sure they were both clear that all the bickering was nothing but entertainment. Steve sighed into Tony's mouth, and Tony smiled. “Back in a second,” he said. 

And, all right, maybe when he turned around to dig in the drawer of his nightstand until he found a bottle of lube, he _might_ have made sure his ass was on display. And he _might_ have been glad to discover it had the desired effect, when Steve couldn't resist running his hands over the skin. 

“Is touching allowed?” Steve asked. “Because I've heard that at these kinds of shows, the audience is supposed to keep their hands to themselves.” 

Tony turned back around to kiss him, laughing. “Yeah, this one's interactive. Touching the performer is not only allowed, but encouraged.” Steve's fingers skimmed over his ass again, and for a moment, Tony considered giving Steve the lube and telling him to get Tony ready for him. 

But not tonight. Tonight, he really wanted to put on a show for Steve. Tony got up on his knees, his legs as wide apart as he could comfortably get them on the bed. “It's been a while since I've had anything that size in me,” he said, eyeing Steve's cock, “and I _don't_ have a high-powered healing factor to rely on, so it's going to take me a couple of minutes to get ready for you.” 

“I bet you say that to all the boys,” Steve said, making Tony choke with laughter. 

“No, usually I tell them that I hope they know how to use that thing.” He sighed melodramatically. “They usually don't, but I'm hoping you won't disappoint me.” He squeezed a dollop of lube into his hand, then reached between his legs. 

“Well, I hope I don't-- _oh_.” Steve broke off as he realized that Tony had just pushed two slick fingers inside himself. “God, Tony, that's...”

“It feels even better than it looks.” It may have been a while since he'd had time for a sex life that included another person--once he and Pepper split, it had mostly seemed like too much trouble given everything else going on in his life--but that didn't mean he'd let himself get out of practice. He enjoyed this too much. “Not as good as you're going to feel inside me, though.” 

He worked his fingers deeper inside himself, stretching himself open, getting himself slick and loose for Steve's cock. Steve was watching him intently, so Tony let himself get into it, trailing his free hand over his thighs and stomach before stroking his cock with light, teasing touches. To his satisfaction, he saw Steve's hand slide down to his own erection, curling around it but then holding still. 

“Go ahead and touch yourself for me,” Tony said. “Just don't come before I get you inside me.” 

Steve groaned at that, moving his hand slowly along his length. 

“That's good,” Tony said. “You look so hot like that. You sound incredible, too. And you like this, don't you? You like watching me fuck myself on my fingers, thinking about your big gorgeous dick and how you're going to fill me up with it.” 

In between ragged breaths, Steve said, “And you said _I_ have a filthy mouth?” 

“I like to talk,” Tony said. “Do you object?”

“I've noticed, and for once, I really don't.” 

“Glad to hear it. One of these days I'm going to see how far I can push you just by talking to you,” Tony said, “but right now, I've got myself all stretched and ready for you.” Fuck, his cock was aching, too, that hungry look in Steve's eyes a bigger turn-on than anything Tony was doing to himself. He pulled his fingers out, moaning a little at the sudden feeling of emptiness. “Move over a little,” he told Steve. “Closer to the middle of the bed.” 

Steve complied, and Tony liberally applied lube to Steve's cock. He might have taken a little longer than strictly necessary for his purposes, but that was perfectly justifiable when Steve started making soft whimpers from behind clenched teeth. “I assume you're okay with skipping the condoms, in light of everything we've already done?” 

Steve nodded. “Yeah, just-- _God_ \--” The interjection came as Tony rubbed the pad of his thumb across a particularly sensitive spot on the underside of Steve's cock. “Just get on with it, _please_ ,” he finished. 

“Since you're so pretty when you beg,” Tony conceded. He straddled Steve's hips, wrapping one hand around Steve's erection to hold it in place, and positioned himself with the head of Steve's cock against him. His other hand rested lightly on Steve's hip, not really holding him down--as if he could, if Steve really wanted to move--but as a reminder to lie still and let Tony do this for them both. “Ready?” 

“Get on with it,” Steve said, and Tony began to slowly, carefully lower himself onto Steve's cock. 

And, of course, narrate the process for Steve. “Oh. Oh, fuck, Steve, do you feel that? You're inside me now, filling me up with your cock. I'm going to slide down farther in just a minute, I just need to get used to you.” And there, he was able to make himself relax now and take Steve further in. 

He could feel Steve struggling to hold still, so he added, “Just give me a minute, and I promise, this'll get better for you.” 

“That might actually kill me,” Steve said, but he twisted his hands in the sheets, and Tony could feel him settle back against the bed. 

Tony lowered himself the rest of the way onto Steve's cock, as far as it would go; he held still for a few moments, breathing through the worst of the burn as his muscles stretched to accommodate Steve's girth. 

Then, just as Steve groaned, “Please, Tony, do _something_ ,” Tony started to move. His erection had flagged from the initial discomfort, but it was rapidly recovering, and he decided that since he'd wanted to put on a show for Steve, he might as well keep going. He began to touch himself again, fucking up into his fist in time with his slide up and down Steve's cock. 

He was rewarded with that heat in Steve's expression again, and a number of soft moans and cries. Tony tightened his muscles around Steve, just to see what kind of sound he would make. It turned out to be a low, needy whine that Tony really needed to hear again as soon as possible. 

“Fuck, you're amazing,” Tony said, still working himself on Steve's erection. “You see what you're doing to me?” He took his hand away for a moment, to make sure Steve could see Tony's cock, flushed deep red and nearly flat against his stomach, the head wet and shiny with pre-come. 

Steve caught his wrist before he brought his hand back again. “Let me do that,” he said, and when Tony nodded and let his hand fall to his side, Steve wrapped his own hand around Tony's erection. 

“I'm not going to last much longer,” he told Tony, then gasped as Tony clenched down hard on Steve's cock. “Definitely not if you keep doing that.” 

Tony grinned and did it again. “Go on, then,” he said, arching into Steve's touch. “Let me feel you come inside me.” Steve's hips started to move, rising up to meet Tony as Tony slid down Steve's cock, but Tony didn't complain. Not when it felt that fucking good, not when every thrust of Steve's hips sent his cock bumping against Tony's prostate, setting all his nerve endings alight. “Come on,” he moaned. “Give it to me, _fuck_ , Steve--” 

Steve's hand was still moving on Tony's cock, and he'd found just the right twist of his wrist to send Tony over the edge, shouting something that was supposed to be “Fuck, that's so good,” but came out barely sounding like English. 

His ability to speak English wasn't helped at all by the sight of Steve taking his hand away from Tony's cock, putting it up to his mouth, and licking it clean. Not really Tony's thing--it was fine, he didn't object, but it wouldn't normally have left him all but speechless. Except that apparently he was destined to find everything Steve did in bed ridiculously hot. “Fuck,” he finally managed, tightening his muscles around Steve again as he felt Steve tense under him. 

“That's right, come for me,” he said, leaning down to kiss Steve, to taste himself on Steve's tongue as Steve groaned into his mouth and did as he was told for once. 

Tony was about to pull away, but Steve's arms came up and wrapped tightly around him, holding him in place. “No running off,” Steve murmured against his temple. “Not this time.” 

“It's my apartment,” he pointed out. “If anyone's going anywhere, it's you.”

“Too bad you've got me trapped.” 

“Yeah, well, I'm going to need to move,” he said, “but I'll be right back. This is just getting uncomfortable.” He reluctantly pulled off Steve's softening cock, then leaned down off the side of the bed and picked up a piece of their discarded clothing to do a little quick clean-up with. Maybe not the most civilized approach, but he didn't feel like going as far away as the bathroom, just yet.

“Was that my shirt?” Steve grumbled, when Tony had dropped it back onto the floor. 

“I think so, yeah.” 

“What am I supposed to wear back to my place?” 

“I'm not letting you go back to your place tonight anyway. And I'll lend you a shirt in the morning.” 

Steve snorted. “Your shirts aren't going to fit me.” 

“Like anyone has ever seen you in a T-shirt that isn't at least three sizes too small, Rogers.” He grinned, curling up against Steve's side, tugging at Steve's chin until Steve turned his head so Tony could kiss him again. 

The bitter taste on Steve's tongue reminded him of what Steve had done, there at the end, and Tony grinned at him. “You know, if you keep doing things like licking your fingers that way, you're going to get me begging you for a blowjob.” 

“You say that like it's a bad thing. I'm not promising I'll be great--”

“Which is what you said about this, so I'm not worried.” 

“--but I think I can promise enthusiastic,” Steve finished. Then, in Tony's ear, he murmured, “I just wanted to taste you, I...” He shook his head, laughing a little. “I actually did that once before,” he said. “With a guy... he was a corporal, from Kentucky, I think. It didn't go over well.” 

“Then he was an idiot,” Tony declared firmly, because Steve Rogers licking come from his hand was one of those things that was hotter than anything had any right to be. 

“It's funny now, but it wasn't at the time. 'What the fuck, Rogers,'” he said, in a passable imitation of a Southern drawl, “'what are you, some kind of queer?'” 

“The handjob wasn't his first clue?” 

“That didn't count,” Steve said, shrugging slightly. “That was just, you know, buddies helping each other out.” 

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Trust me, Steve, it was definitely some kind of queer. And for the record, that's fine by me. You know, in case you hadn't noticed from the way I can't keep my hands off you.” Just to prove his point, he ran a hand over Steve's chest and stomach. Definitely just to prove a point, and not because Steve shivered a little under his touch and moved closer to Tony. 

“We are going to do this again, right?” 

Now Tony was kicking himself for having ever run out of Steve's apartment, because there was no way, after tonight, that Steve should have sounded so uncertain about that. 

“Unless you've changed your mind, yeah.” Tony kissed him again. “In the morning, if you want. I'd say later tonight, but I'm probably going to be dead to the world in about fifteen minutes.” 

“Good,” Steve said, the uncertainty gone from his voice. “Because if we're agreed that what happened the other night doesn't actually count, then I have a list of things that we definitely need to do. Again. For the first time.” 

“Oh, yeah? Tell me that list includes you begging me to fuck you. Because if it doesn't, it's a very bad list, and you need to tear it up and start again.” 

“I guess I can pencil that in. If you insist.” 

“I insist. Like I said, you have a beautiful, amazing, filthy mouth, and I want to hear it every chance I get.” He traced Steve's lips with one fingertip, breathing in sharply when Steve sucked the finger into his mouth. “Practicing?” 

Steve didn't answer, too busy drawing patterns on Tony's finger with the tip of his tongue. Then he let the finger slip out of his mouth and smirked at Tony. “I think that means I should say 'please' a lot in team meetings,” he said. “No one's going to be surprised if I'm very polite, but you'll know it's meant for you.” 

“I hate you,” Tony muttered, but he was pretty sure Steve knew what he meant.

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from Melissa Ferrick's "Drive." 
> 
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> [me on tumblr](https://mireille719.tumblr.com)


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